Free Swing State by Michael T. Fournier Page B

eyes.
    Went back a few times. Didn’t tell Auntie Blake.
    She was awake once. Looked at him. Didn’t see him, though. Couldn’t tell. He said it’s me and she made a noise. That was it. He tried to think if she told him something and he couldn’tremember and should have been paying attention to what she said instead of watching TV. But he watched because he didn’t want to know. Even then. The
Brady Bunch
and all the families on TV who went places and did things and sat together and ate the same food at the same time weren’t the reason even though he liked to think of all that stuff. Wasn’t how it was with Auntie Blake. Always sighing. Not because she was tired. She didn’t like him. Felt like she had to take care of him. Charity case. And he couldn’t do honors. Didn’t care enough. Wanted to. Maybe she’d like him more. But he couldn’t. School, work at night, sleep. So.
    Kickoff again. The back ran it to midfield. The guy was happy. The kid was not. Hanley had no chance. He could go home. Or play pool. But no one went to Patterson’s during games. So he had to stay. Or his apartment by himself.
    A pass. Forty-something yards. The guy jumped. High-fived his kid. Who didn’t care. But tried to. For his dad.

11.
    T HE GAME IS TONIGHT. I’ M GONNA meet up with those guys. I hope Mary is there.
    * * *
    Oh my God I feel sick. My head feels like it’s gonna explode.
    * * *
    I’m gonna barf.
    * * *
    (gap in tape)
    * * *
    I left the recorder out last night. Next to the bed. Anyone could have come in and found it.
    I guess this is a hangover.
    It sucks.
    Don was out in the living room when I got up. I musta barfed like three or four times. I thought he was gonna hit me. When I went to the kitchen I had to walk by him. He started laughing and said you have the virus, huh?
    I was like I don’t know what you’re talking about.
    He laughed again and said a girl like you never had the virus before?
    I didn’t get it.
    He said you have a hangover. You drank too much at the game.
    When I said I wasn’t hungover he laughed even louder. Oh please, he said. I could smell it all the way down the hall. Whiskey and beer.
    He was right. Wine, too.
    He said I could tell even before you started yakking. You were something at the game.
    Did I see him there?
    He said you don’t remember. Boy, you tied one on.
    Then he said don’t think you’re off the hook. Your mother will be home soon. Then we’ll talk.
    When I asked about what, he said school. And the crowd you’re running with.
    I started to tell him I’m not running with a crowd but he cut me off and said you probably don’t remember half of what you did last night. There are more important things than yourself, you got that?
    I said like what, my brother?
    He stood up and said family. Then, you need to show more respect.
    I said you’re not part of this family, without even thinking. It just came out of my mouth. And before I knew it I was on the floor.
    Something was on my chin. I felt it.
    Blood from my lip.
    I wish I had taped it. I could play it for Mom. Or the cops.
    He said you don’t remember how you got that.
    You just hit me, asshole.
    He said no, you don’t remember. Because you blacked out. Drank too much. One of those boys did this. Or you fell down.
    I said no, this was you. You did this. And I almost got up.
    He said you didn’t hear me, did you?
    I stayed down.
    He said this family’s got enough to worry about without you making an ass of yourself. Or failing out. Then he said get up.
    I said I never fail out.
    He said your mother hasn’t seen a report card. Why not?
    I didn’t say anything.
    You hid it. Or burned it.
    He was right.
    Then he said get up.
    I went why, so you can hit me again?
    He said maybe. Keep hanging with that crowd and you’ll wind up in jail. They’ll do way worse to you there.
    I said no.
    He kicked me and